


I Could Be the Engine, You Could Be the Wheel

by XaviaAndromedovna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Banshee Powers, Bodyswap, Canon through 4x5 with spoilers for later eps, Coming Out, F/F, Fanmix, Fanmix with extensive ficcish context, Feminist Themes, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, OOC, OOC!Malia, Parallel Universes, Season 1 Lydia, Slurs, Temporary Character Death, Test anxiety, The Benefactor - Freeform, feminist!Malia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between trying to get Malia caught up on eight years of schoolwork and trying to hone her banshee powers to track the Benefactor, Lydia's junior year is shaping up to be pretty stressful. Thanks to Meredith's help though, she is finally able to get some results-- however unexpected.<br/>--<br/>Malia is an out-and-proud pansexual feminist activist who lives next door to Lydia, the still-reigning queen of Windsor High. The same Lydia who may or may not want to dump her pretentious boyfriend and fall into bed with her best frenemy.</p><p>As always, the supernatural intervenes and throws everything into chaos across two universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rebel Girl//Glamour Puss [Windsor, CA]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nalana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalana/gifts).



> This work was created for withinevening as part of the Teen Wolf Rarepair Exchange on Tumblr. These are basically the (extensive) song justifications for a mix which you can find [here](http://www.mediafire.com/download/ff6rggit1olf8f3/I+Could+Be+the+Engine%2C+You+Could+Be+the+Wheel.zip). It was created for the prompt **who we are/could have been.** Many thanks to the mods for putting up with my shenanigans, and to Jake for betaing. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Mix warnings (NSFW): strong language and test anxiety (The Answer), homophobic slurs (Rebel Girl), implied self-harm/near-death experience (Whisper, Breathe, Shatter)
> 
> Note on structure: This fic takes place in two parallel universes simultaneously. Chapter titles indicate which universe is being presented. Each chapter has one Malia POV section and one Lydia POV section.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1) "Rebel Girl" Bikini Kill  
>  _Rebel girl, rebel girl,_  
>  _you know I wanna take you home I wanna try on your clothes._  
>  _They say she's the queen of the neighborhood._  
>  _I've got news for you: she is!_  
>  _They say she's a dyke, but I know_  
>  _she is._
> 
> 2) "Glamour Puss" KT Tunstall  
>  _Push a little longer,_  
>  _dance a little harder,_  
>  _never give yourself away._  
>  _Love a little less to_  
>  _keep yourself together._  
>  _Everything'll go your way._

It's the Riot Grrrl music aggressively wafting into her window from next door that wakes her. As it is every morning.

"Seriously," Lydia Martin mutters as she pushes herself out of bed to close the window. "Could she be any more of an anachronistic stereotype?" (A clever person might question how she knows it's anachronistic, but she makes it her business to know a little of everything, including obscure 90s genres, which actually affect her on a much more daily basis than she would like.)

She's halfway through her shower when she catches herself humming the song that Malia was playing so gratuitously early. She groans and shuts off the water a little more forcefully than necessary. This needs to stop.

Lydia Martin does not back down from confrontation. The student body wouldn’t be at her beck and call if she couldn't rise to a challenge, even one as aggravating as Malia Tate. Who knows what convoluted feminist rant she'll get this week?

It can't be any worse than the time she held a speak-out on the front lawn and called it censorship when Lydia threatened to file a noise complaint. Lydia thought it was more civil than getting her and her friends arrested for trespassing.

Ever since the Tates moved in over a decade ago, the two have teetered between best friends and worst enemies. Lydia admires the girl's spunk, and she must admit Malia pulls off angry feminist chic well. But she's far too overtly political to associate with if Lydia has any hopes of being respected at this school. She has a reputation, after all, one that must be upheld with the utmost attention to detail. She _can_ have it all: math genius, homecoming queen, flawless hair; it just takes a little cunning, and not being derailed by Malia and her clan of protesters.

Her teeth and hair are brushed, her skin is moisturized and her outfit is on point. _”You know I wanna take you home I wanna try on your clothes-“_

...did she just sing that out loud?

"That's it," Lydia spits, applying her make up regimen at record speeds. The time has come for a showdown, and she'll be damned if she doesn't look flawless doing it.

* * *

Malia calls out a rushed goodbye to her family before donning her combat boots, grabbing her pin-laden satchel, and heading out the door for the quarter-mile walk to school. The door hasn't even completely shut before she sees none other than her next-door neighbor, Lydia "fuck me pumps" Martin strutting down the catsidewalk towards her with a decidedly unsexy scowl. (Okay, she lied, it's incredibly sexy. Not that she's objectifying the rapidly-approaching totally-a-closet-femme, but she does work those heels with an ease that commands attention. Malia's always had a thing for assertive women.)

She actually really wishes she got along with Lydia, because on those rare occasions they do talk- or more likely argue- she finds that the social butterfly has very nuanced ideas about slut-shaming, self-objectification, women in STEM, and other issues near and dear to her heart. But if the way she shouts Malia's name as she tears through the driveway is any indication, today is an argument day.

"Lydia! How can I help you?" she smiles. She finds that Lydia always gets more frustrated when she smiles.

"You can help by shutting your window before blasting your totally last-wave lesbian anthems at six-thirty in the morning!"

"Actually, we tend not to use the wave metaphor to discuss feminist history anymore because it's a Eurocentric and frankly misleading model that erases history and activism between waves."

Lydia's perfectly manicured nails might just get dug into her eyes. "I'll erase your history permanently if you don't stop interfering with my morning beauty ritual!"

"What, afraid people will see you're secretly a real live human being if your bimbo mask isn't on all the way?"

"I'm sorry, which of us is the one being misogynistic right now? Because if your former logic is correct, then feminism should be about all women, including the pretty ones who actually know how to dress." The up-down Lydia gives her is ostensibly shade, but she seems unable to hide the hint of lust in her eyes. Huh, so Lydia likes the soft butch look. Time to change tactics.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll try to be more respectful of your space and your gender presentation."

Lydia Martin rarely gets flustered. It's a good look on her.

"See that you do," she commands before flipping her hair and sashaying away.

"Nice talking to you, Glamour Puss!" Classy ladies aren't supposed to flash the finger, but she's glad Lydia made an exception for her.


	2. Pyramus and Thisby//All I Really Want [Beacon Hills, CA]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3)"Pyramus and Thisby" Zelda Williams  
>  _If we offend, we've got good will._  
>  _If we are crude, our measures plain,_  
>  _our true intent is your delight,_  
>  _it's merry, tragical and brief._
> 
> 4)"All I Really Want" Alanis Morisette  
>  _And all I really want is some patience,_  
>  _a way to calm the angry voice._  
>  _And all I really want is deliverance._  
>  [...]  
>  _Why are you so petrified of silence?_  
>  _Here, can you handle this?_  
>  _[silence]_  
>  _Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines,_  
>  _or when you think your gonna die?_  
>  _Or did you long for the next distraction?_

Malia actually ends up being pretty helpful, if annoying, when it comes to decoding Meredith's cryptic message about the second cipher key (of course it was 'AIDEN', because why not twist the knife even deeper?). In return, Lydia offers to help her study for the upcoming PSATs. Lydia already took them last year and got a near-perfect, so she's not concerned about the real SATs, but Malia always looks genuinely lost, even before they got to the Shakespeare unit in 11th grade literature (which Lydia traded out for AP Lit, yet still she ended up with the same book list). It ends up being the case that Lydia is tutoring her in everything.

"How is this English?" Malia snarls into her copy of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Lydia tries not to be offended on Shakespeare's behalf, but she literally just had this argument with Stiles yesterday.

"Because language is not static. People in the 24th century will probably be just as confused by our writings as we are by his. Besides, Shakespeare is still Modern English; you should try reading the Bestiary, it's in an archaic form of Latin."

"What's a Bestiary? Isn't that when you–"

"UGH! Not you too!" Stiles calls, entering the room with a variety of crinkling snacks.

The strawberry blonde offers him a judgmental eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles's patented 'are you shitting me?' face has surfaced. "What am I doing in my own bedroom, hmmm, probably sacrificing small children and cultivating wolfsbane."

"Stiles Stilinski, did you just get snarky with me?" He falters, and it warms her heart that he's just as surprised by how far they've come as friends as she is. "I'm impressed."

He makes an overly-dramatic bow, which ends in him banging his head on his crime board. Lydia's not above Schadenfreude, although Malia seems genuinely concerned about her not-boyfriend's clumsiness.

" _Anyway_ , the language isn't that hard a barrier once you understand how it's structured."

The scoff Stiles makes is not in any way helpful. "Yeah, if you're a super genius. That reminds me, we're going to see Caitlin's band play tonight. It's a battle of the bands sort of thing in the industrial district."

"That's great! Well, excluding the assassins and the deadpool of course, not to mention the fact that Malia here is trying to pass English."

"That's not gonna happen," Malia says without a hint of disappointment, as if she hadn't just spent the past fifteen minutes freaking out about catching up with her classmates. "I say we go."

"Thank you," he replies pointedly. "And actually it will help her study, because they write all their songs based on classical literature, including most of the works on the reading list."

Lydia opens her mouth to respond, but thinks better of it. This might actually be a good idea.

* * *

When they arrive at the concert, Malia follows Stiles to meet Caitlin and the rest of the band. The girl smells faintly like him, and it makes the werecoyote instinctively on-edge.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Caitlin stares at her, stunned. "I..."

"Malia, what the hell?!"

"She smells like you." She turns to the guy on Caitlin's left, who she thinks is on the lacrosse team. "Actually so does he."

The embarrassment and anxiety wafting off the three is nauseating. Stiles immediately sidles up to her. "Malia, I know you're pissed, but you need to do something about your eyes and teeth."

"If you're trying to keep werewolves a secret, it's a little late for that," Caitlin chimes in. Malia doesn’t bother looking human.

Stiles sighs. "Look, Malia, I really like hooking up with you, but we're not in a relationship, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about them sooner and please quit looking at me like you're about to eat my liver?"

Sometimes she gets really confused by the way Stiles phrases things, but she does kinda want to eat his liver.

"I'm not gonna eat you," she decides. He sighs in relief. "I am gonna shit in your shoes and pee on your house, though."

She doesn't wait for a response before going back to find Lydia.

"Is it normal for humans to try and sleep with multiple people?"

Lydia gives her some serious side-eye. "Ummm... yeah, I'm gonna need some more context on that one, sweetheart."

"Stiles cheated on me with Caitlin and some boy."

"Wait, _really?!_ " She looks around to try and find him. "Which one?"

"I don't remember his name. I think he's on the lacrosse team though."

"I'm surprised." Malia looks at her in confusion, because her tone is more amused than concerned. "Not that he's with a guy," she clarifies, "that one was a long time coming. I'm more surprised he realized it already. I always pictured him as a late bloomer."

"How are you not upset about this?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ll destroy him later for not telling you he didn’t want to be exclusive. But Stiles isn't exactly the relationship type, even when he wants to be." The music starts, and Lydia grabs Malia's hand. "Do you wanna stay or should I take you home?"

She looks over to where she can just barely spot Stiles by the stage, catching her gaze with a look of regret.

"Yeah," she replies, looking back into Lydia's sympathetic green eyes. "Let's go."

She doesn't say anything for the rest of the car ride, which makes Lydia visibly uncomfortable, but when she pulls up to the Tate residence, Malia pulls her new friend into a hug. Lydia's arms are somewhat trapped, but she awkwardly returns the hug with a quiet, "see you tomorrow."

And as much as she didn't want to study with Lydia before, she thinks it might not be so bad after all.


	3. One Girl Revolution//Fairytale [Windsor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5)"One Girl Revolution" Saving Jane  
>  _Raise your hand if you're smart, girls,_  
>  _more than push-ups and pearls._  
>  _Let 'em stare at our pictures, baby,_  
>  _while we take over the world._  
>  [...]  
>  _I'm here to start a one girl revolution._  
>  _I'm not the girl next door anymore,_  
>  _baby I'm an institution._
> 
> 6)"Fairytale" Sara Bareilles  
>  _Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom,_  
>  _Man made up a story, said that I should believe him._  
>  _Go and tell your white knight that he's handsome in hindsight,_  
>  _but I don't want the next best thing._  
>  _So I sing and hold my head down,_  
>  _and I break these walls 'round me._  
>  _I can't take no more of your fairytale love!_

Malia should have known that wasn't the last she'd hear from Lydia Martin this week. She only complains about the 'noise' when she's stressed out about something, and Malia has a pretty good idea what it is when she sees the giant banner strewn in front of a ticket table.

_Sadie Hawkins Dance! Next Thursday, 7-10pm in the gymnasium. Tickets $10, $15 for couples._

It's like she's _begging_ Malia for a confrontation.

"Why am I not surprised that you'd make a severely misguided attempt at a liberal feminist politics?"

Jackson Whittemore— Lydia's douchey boyfriend who's captain of some sports team or another— stares at her with contemptuous bewilderment. For her part, Lydia just looks amused.

"Misguided? I thought you of all people would get a kick out of this."

"It's homophobic and transphobic, not to mention it reinscribes patriarchal dating norms by emphasizing the strangeness of a woman asking a man out instead of the other way around."

"But if we don't draw attention to those norms, how do we ever expect to change them? And materially, this particular dance will indeed be a reversal of the norm in a way that makes it explicit that girls at our school have had this ability all along, they just don't exercise it because it's not in the norm."

Malia puts her hands on the table, a little too forcefully. "That doesn't change the fact that it trades in heterocentrism and doesn't account for people outside the male/female binary."

Lydia leans in to meet her, a glint in her eye. "I never said girls had to ask a _boy_ , and it doesn't forbid boys from going together or non-binary people from attending, it simply decenters them and places women's agency at the forefront."

She doesn't know how it happens, only that she has no response other than to stare into Lydia's gorgeous green eyes. A voice in the back of her head reminds her that her last girlfriend was Caitlin, and that was over two years ago. Not that that's relevant.

The moment must last long enough to be uncomfortable, because Jackson coughs loudly before chiming in, "are you buying a ticket or not? You're holding up the line."

Lydia immediately flinches backwards, confused. Malia decides to spare her the embarrassment and walks away, but not before she hears one of Jackson's friends call her a dyke. Must be Tuesday.

* * *

"What the hell was that about?" Jackson spits, staring at Malia's back with open scorn. Unfortunately, Lydia doesn't know. She always gets worked up whenever Malia's around, but never this bad. It's been happening more frequently; they'll start fighting, and suddenly Malia will just, stop trying. Something's different between them, and it's really confusing. Lydia doesn't do confusing. She shrugs flippantly, but Jackson doesn't accept that answer. "What were you guys even talking about?"

"We were just arguing about the dance," Lydia explains lightly, now fully in control of her mask. "I don't know, she was spouting some radical feminist nonsense. Whatever, it's not like anyone cares if she comes or not."

"I care. It looked to me like she was two seconds away from asking you herself."

"What??" she squeaks, and suddenly it all makes sense. They were _flirting_. Oh god, she was flirting with Malia Tate. What the hell? But the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes how not at all scared of the prospect she is. Malia doesn't treat her like an accessory or a conquest, but as an adversary, an equal. She doesn't pretend to be anyone other than herself, and she's so driven that if Lydia's being honest with herself (which apparently she is), she's inspired by her fiery neighbor.

She must think about this for too long, because Jackson's sneer drops to a scowl (had he been talking this whole time?) "Lydia!" He sighs and grabs Greenberg to man the table before dragging her aside. "Seriously, what's your deal? What, do you have a little crush?"

”What? No! Of course not!" She waves a hand in dismissal.

"Good, because you're my girlfriend and you're going with _me_ to the dance. Okay?"

She knows Jackson is an asshole. That's why they're together; she needs someone as ruthless as her to keep them at the top of the social ladder. But controlling is not a good look on him.

"Excuse me? Did I ask you to the dance?"

"You don't have to; if you don't go with me, your reputation will be ruined and you know it."

He's right. She knows he is. But no one tells her what to do and gets away with it. She has a decision to make: give in and go to the dance with Jackson, keeping her popularity? Or go with Malia and have a good time?

The fact that she's even considering Malia as a valid option tells her all she needs to know.

"I don't care," she replies defiantly before turning on her heel and going to find the fiery radfem. When she finds her, she holds up two tickets. "Malia Tate, will you deign to engage in impure politics for one night and be my date to the dance?"

She gets a smug “sure” in return, and this was undoubtedly the right decision.


	4. The Answer//Whisper [Beacon Hills]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7) "The Answer" Krysta Rodriguez  
>  _I've got time to make mistakes, make up my mind,_  
>  _and I've got time enough to find out all the answers._  
>  _But I am scared, and I'm afraid that a decision won't get made_  
>  _and I'll be like this forever, I need help,_  
>  _need extra help to find the answer. What's the answer?_  
>  _I don't know._
> 
> 8) "Whisper" Evanescence  
>  _Fallen angels at my feet,_  
>  _whispered voices at my ear,_  
>  _death before my eyes,_  
>  _lying next to me I fear._  
>  _She beckons me; shall I give in?_  
>  _Upon my end shall I begin?_  
>  _Forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet the end._

Malia is freaking out. She knows from watching Stiles— who she’s still not talking to— that it’s not a panic attack, but it doesn’t feel good.

Lydia wasn’t able to help her study yesterday because she and Stiles went to see Meredith at Eichen House, and apparently it went really well because she was gone the whole day. Meanwhile, Malia had to help Derek find Satomi’s pack, which means it’s the Saturday of the PSATs and she’s nowhere near ready. Her friends try to offer her encouragement but honestly it just stresses her out more.

She gets her fingerprints taken and deposits her cellphone before taking a seat in the middle of the classroom. The rules are almost as confusing as the test. Don’t open the shrink wrap until instructed. Don’t turn the page before instructed. Only use a #2 pencil and scan the bubbles exactly like this or your test won’t count. Then she opens the booklet.

She reads the first passage and it has something to do with 19th century science fiction novels; she isn’t quite sure how that’s supposed to relate to her life, but she tries. The questions don’t make sense. “The first sentence is an example of: A)metonymy B)synecdoche C)metaphor D)both A and C E)none of the above.” WHO CARES?

The second passage is easier to read but just as useless— something about shipwrecks and boat safety. It’s hot in the room, how the hell is it hot? Malia’s always cold. She takes off her jacket and tries to answer the questions, but she just can’t.

She closes her eyes and thinks. She thinks about school and how hard it is, how it feels like a bunch of stuff she’ll never need to use. She thinks about the forest and how much she misses her den and running through the trees and the few coyotes she was able to befriend. She thinks about why she’s even still here. The people she’s been running around with aren’t really her friends: they’re Stiles’s. Seeing as she’s not his biggest fan right now, it feels like there’s no reason to stay. What the hell did she see in him anyway? Didn’t she hate him when they first met? Fucking coyote instincts, more concerned about mating than getting her life together.

Okay, so Stiles is the first to be eaten. But she actually feels kinda attached to the others now. Her and Kira are just starting to be friends. Scott’s an amazing leader and while she doesn’t always agree with his non-violent tactics, he knows what he’s doing, especially with Derek at his side. And then there’s Lydia, who she’s been spending a lot of time with lately.

Right, focus! She looks at the questions but the next one makes even less sense, something about signals and shores and she just _doesn’t care_. In the grand scheme of things, what the hell difference will this test even make? She has so many more important things to her like—

Like figuring out what happened to the girl that just passed out.

A few hours later, once the sickness has faded and her name has been found on the list as Malia Hale, she realizes what she actually wants to do with her life. And it certainly isn’t hang out with a bunch of lying high schoolers.

* * *

Between typing Aiden’s name into the algorithm and her next visit with Meredith, Lydia realizes that she’s been going about this all wrong. Demanding Meredith’s help isn’t going to get them anywhere, because the girl makes no sense. Instead, Lydia needs to learn how to get the answers herself. She’s a banshee too, which means she’s just as capable of finding these ciphers; hell, she found the first one all on her own. She just needs to learn how it works.

Although they need to keep a wary eye on Parrish (because who knows what breed of supernatural he is), convincing him to help is fairly easy. With the way he’s so genuinely on their side, it’s hard not to be taken in by his pretty boy charms. Stiles is certainly smitten with him when he one-ups Brunski to get into Meredith’s room.

Meredith can’t tell them the third cipher key. The Benefactor won’t let her, whatever that means.

”Then tell me how to help myself,” she begs. Begging is not often in her repertoire, but these are desperate times. “Teach me how to do it myself if you can’t tell me.”

”You just need to listen,” Meredith replies matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious. “Listen to the voices.”

”But I only hear them sometimes, and every time I try to make them talk they’re silent.”

”You can’t make them talk. You have to ask them. They’re more than willing to help if you just ask them or let them speak.”

”That sounds like a solid plan right there,” Stiles snarks. “Just _ask_ the voices in your head if they wanna talk to you.”

Lydia glares at him before returning her attention to Meredith. “I’ve tried asking but they won’t talk to me.”

Meredith shakes her head violently, but not with agitation. “You’re so busy asking questions you don’t listen for the answer. You listen with your human ears and not your banshee ears.”

Parrish clears his throat before awkwardly contributing. “I think what she’s trying to say is you need to trust your intuition. You’re a math person, right? Well, you’re thinking about this too mathematically, like it’s a formula instead of a… a- I don’t know, like a sound wave, a vibration.”

Everyone else in the room stares at him with varying levels of confusion. Meredith is the first to understand, her face lighting up.

”Exactly! Don’t explain the vibrations, feel the vibrations!”

” _Feel_ the vibrations,” Lydia repeats. “Feel the vibrations…”

She closes her eyes and listens to the hum of the lights, the loud breathing of Stiles next to her, the pipes creaking. She tries not to think anything at all, instead feeling every sensation around her. The humming gets louder. ‘Can you hear me?’

”Yes,” she replies. A sudden commotion brings her to the present. Meredith is clapping and Stiles stares at her, guffawing his surprise. Even Parrish looks impressed.

”You heard me!” Meredith starts shouting. “You heard me! You heard me!”

Lydia starts laughing with relief. She heard her, clear as day. And if the reactions of Stiles and Parrish are any indication, they didn’t. This could work. She can finally _do_ something to help her friends.

”Let me try it again,” she grins, starting to get excited about this. She calms herself and listens to the world around her, feels its weight as it spins. She invites the voices to speak, and suddenly a chorus of them begins to chatter. The task now is to focus on one that’s useful.

’Can you tell me what the third cipher key is?’

The voices get louder and more incoherent. Something’s wrong, she can feel it. ‘What is it?’

They start chanting. At first it’s Latin: ‘save us from danger, save us from evil’ but above this she hears the voices at the forefront of her consciousness. ‘Run away. Run away! RUN AWAY!’

Suddenly, she hears music. It sounds like a party or a concert or something. She follows the sound, and it’s coming from outside Meredith’s room. She opens the door, and all she knows is loud whispers and a bright white light.


	5. So Happy I Could Die//Golden Frames [Windsor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9) "So Happy I Could Die" Lady Gaga  
>  _Don't give up baby,_  
>  _open up your heart and your mind to me._  
>  _Just know when_  
>  _that glass is empty that the world is gonna bend._  
>  _Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine,_  
>  _stars in our eyes 'cuz we're having a good time._
> 
> 10) "Golden Frames" KT Tunstall  
>  _It was the middle of the night_  
>  _when she found there was something on her mind._  
>  _Pointless to fight, there was nothing to be done_  
>  _about the persistent nature of it._  
>  _Emanating from the doorframe_  
>  _was a hum that grew into a roar,_  
>  _followed by the light,_  
>  _followed by the light,_  
>  _followed by the terrible light._

If you had asked Malia two years ago who she would probably end up with at a high school dance, the answer would have been: “trick question, I don’t participate in school dances”. Leave it to Lydia to change the her mind.

There was a five-hour-long raid of Macy’s (because capitalism is always the answer) that resulted in a dress both of them could agree on for Malia, a counter full of makeup she’ll use exactly once, and a gorgeous dress that Lydia will be using to slay the entire student body. And she only vomited a little about having complementary color schemes. Of course, she’s not quite complying with Lydia’s demands. The day of, Malia decides to fuck with her and ring her doorbell two hours early in her combat boots and side braid. Lydia is decidedly unamused when her mom lets Malia up the stairs.

Only Lydia Martin could look flawless in a face mask and toe separators with her hair dripping all over bare shoulders. She’s also the only person who can pull off ‘I will physically maim you in the next five seconds’ in the same outfit.

That does nothing to remove the shit-eating grin from Malia’s face.

”I swear to god, Malia, if you don’t go the fuck home and change right now I’m rescinding my invitation.”

”Relax,” she replies, leaning on the doorframe. “I’m changing. I just thought I’d let you know that you have half an hour less to get ready, ‘cuz I’m taking you out to dinner beforehand.”

”It’s cute that you think you’re in charge of what happens tonight,” Her Highness quips, rubbing lotion into her arms. (She’s not looking, nope, what are you talking about?)

”Well the way I see it, we’re both girls, so we’re both in charge. And I’m in charge of what we do before we get there.” Lydia rolls her eyes but doesn’t respond, instead peeling off her mask. She takes it as a sign to continue. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half to pick you up. Is there anything you refuse to eat?”

”You’re taking me to Giovanni’s. The food is excellent and even you can afford it.” Malia raises her eyebrow at that. Lydia returns her gaze, sharp and defiant. “You should make the reservation now.”

”As you wish, My Queen,” she bows. A pillow may or may not be chucked at her back.

If she thought Lydia was beautiful earlier, seeing her dressed to impress ninety minutes later is like a ticket to the Oscars. The thing about Lydia, though, is that her beauty is completely irrelevant. She’s talented and intelligent and strong-willed and a bunch of other extremely attractive things. But for right now, Malia is a little preoccupied with her impeccable style.

”I never thought I’d see the day,” the genius muses. “You’re wearing a dress unironically. And you even shaved your legs!”

”Actually I waxed them,” she admits. “My mom has this all-natural fair-trade wax that she uses, so I borrowed it. I figured it was on the list of unwritten requirements.”

”You’re learning!” They laugh as Malia escorts her the twenty feet to Lydia’s car.

The restaurant was indeed a good idea, and true to the spirit of the night, her femme date insists on paying. Not that she minds; there aren’t pockets in this dress, and she refuses to carry a purse. They arrive fashionably late to the dance, and when Lydia parks the car, she stops Malia from getting out. “Wait,” she says before pulling out a wine bottle and two glasses. Only Lydia.

”You drove,” she points out.

”Which is why we’re only drinking one glass then dancing it off for a few hours.” Lydia pours a tasteful amount for each of them and hands Malia a glass. Their hands graze, and it’s almost too Hollywood, but neither of them seem to care. Lydia raises her drink. “To the revolution.”

”To the revolution,” she toasts, clinking glasses. They sit in the parking lot sipping their wine and laughing before they finally decide to wander in. Malia notices the second of hesitation as Lydia’s hand rests on the door. She takes it into her own and smiles at the incredibly brave woman standing next to her. If she never saw her smile again, she would still die happy, because this one is genuine, not a trace of artifice. They enter, hand in hand.

* * *

The key to working any crowd is confidence. If you don’t do whatever you’re doing with confidence, people will never take you seriously. These are the things Lydia reminds herself every day, especially when she’s feeling less than confident. Like right now.

In some ways, the stressful week leading up to the dance was worth it, because no one is fazed by their arrival. They already got their homophobic remarks out of their system. And truthfully, their school is fairly progressive when it comes to queer issues. Danny has been out for years, Stiles might as well be, and Caitlin was on the homecoming court. But no place is perfect, and the two of them got their fair share of stares and comments. Mostly from Jackson and his goons. (“He’s just jealous,” Danny assured her. “Trust me, he won’t do anything.”)

They approach her friends, and it’s like nothing is different. Everyone is just having a great time, including Malia. She’d probably never admit it, but she seems to be having the time of her life.

Wonder of wonders, her neighbor can actually dance. As in, ballroom dance. How Malia Tate knows how to lead a waltz is a mystery Lydia will be investigating for years to come. There’s also a healthy amount of grinding, and this was a great idea.

By the time the dance is over, she’s tired but excited and by no means ready for tonight to end. She pulls into her driveway and turns to face her date. “Thank you,” she whispers. She didn’t mean to whisper it, but it happened, and Malia takes it as an invitation to close the gap between them. Her kiss is surprisingly gentle, not nearly as combative as Lydia assumed it would be. She dares a tentative hand on her cheek and is rewarded by a firmer press against her mouth. It’s unexpectedly natural, the way Malia’s fingers grip her neck as Lydia opens to an urgent tongue. Lydia relishes the mutual forfeit of power before breathlessly pulling back and inviting Malia inside.

She silently cheers about both her parents being away this weekend and leads her up to her room. A voice in the back of her head reminds her that she actually has no idea what she’s doing with a woman, but a smarter voice assures her she’ll figure it out. Malia goes in for a kiss but she pushes a coquettish finger to her lips and turns around, pushing her hair forward so she can unzip her dress. Malia takes the hint and peppers kisses along her neck and shoulder before unpracticed fingers fumble with the zipper. “Clothes should not be this complicated to wear,” she huffs. “This is a torture device.”

”Less theory, more praxis,” Lydia replies as the garment finally loosens around her and she can remove herself from the sleeves. The bodice pools at her hips, exposing her lacy, forest green bra.

Before Malia can get it unhooked, there is a sound from the kitchen. “What was that?”

”Do you want me to go investigate?”

Lydia shakes her head and puts her arms back through the sleeves. “Stay here.”

She descends the stairs with caution and a plunger before deducing that there is no one there. She enters the kitchen, and finds that the walls are covered in framed pictures, each one stranger than the last. Some are like scenes from her own life, others are of far-off worlds or macabre creatures. As she approaches one of the photos, she notices that the images are moving.

She feels the sudden urge to scream. The fear flows through her vocal cords, unstoppable as the kitchen is bathed in white light and the floor approaches rapidly.


	6. Breathe//Naked [Beacon Hills]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11) "Breathe" Superchick  
>  _Each breath breathed means we're alive,_  
>  _and life means that we can find_  
>  _the reasons to keep on getting by._  
>  _And if reasons we can't find,_  
>  _we'll make up some to get by,_  
>  _'til breath by breath we'll leave this behind._
> 
> 12) "Naked" Avril Lavigne  
>  _I wake up in the morning, put on my face,_  
>  _the one that's gonna get me through another day._  
>  _Doesn't really matter how I feel inside._  
>  _This life is like a game sometimes._  
>  [...]  
>  _Guess I never had someone like you_  
>  _to help me fit in my skin._

Malia slams Stiles’s bedroom window open and punches him in the face. Not only did he cheat on her with two different people, not only did he not tell her she was a Hale, but Lydia has been dead for 36 hours and no one bothered to tell her?!

”You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Why do always keep shit from me!”

”Owwww, motherf— next time could you dial back the superhuman strength a bit?”

”Where is she?”

He sighs. “She’s in the morgue. Deaton’s with her now.” She turns and climbs back out the window. “Wait, where are you going? Malia, just talk to me!” If she wanted to talk to him, his eye wouldn’t be starting to puff up.

She runs, and in a short time she arrives at the hospital. When she walks in, Melissa and Scott immediately start debriefing her on what happened. Lydia passed out at Eichen House and had to be carried to the nearest pack bed, where she never woke up. The only reason they believe she’s still alive is that every hour on the hour, her ears will bleed slightly and the shapeshifters will hear the echoes of her scream. They just found out that Meredith killed herself last night, so no one is around who knows how to help her. Scott and Stiles moved her to the hospital right before the PSATs where she was declared legally dead. Scott has a plan to use this to their advantage by staging her death for the Benefactor, something about visual confirmation, but Malia doesn’t really care about the details. Someone she was just starting to care about is dead.

Deaton and the Yukimuras are standing around Lydia when she enters the morgue. Her skin is even paler than usual, the dried blood around her ears the only color besides her unkempt hair. Try as she might, she can’t hear a heartbeat, a shallow breath, anything.

Malia doesn’t really get why she’s so torn up about this. She’s seen things die all the time in the wild, and even being a human again, now that she thinks about it. It doesn’t faze her often, because death is just the way of nature. Survival of the fittest is all she knows. So why does it matter that Lydia is dead?

”The hospital’s cremating her in forty minutes,” Deaton advises. Malia looks at the clock on the wall just as it strikes the hour. Suddenly, there’s a high pitch growing louder just ahead, and she can tell Kira and Mrs. Yukimura hear it too. She can smell fresh blood where Lydia’s ears are moistening.

”It’s louder this time,” Kira notes with worry. “Does that mean anything?”

”It means Scott’s plan better work soon before we either lose the body or lose our cover story.”

Malia is put in charge of guarding the body while everyone else executes other parts of the plan. The forty minutes go by, and nothing has changed; the Benefactor is nowhere to be found. She only has a few minutes to execute Plan B: break Lydia out of the morgue. She manages to carry her to the Jeep where Stiles is waiting to take her home. Except Stiles gets a call that the Sheriff took a stray bullet to the shoulder breaking up a fight between Parrish and another deputy. Malia hops in the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “Wait!” he calls after her as she’s pulling away. “You don’t know how to drive!”

”I’ll figure it out!”

”…I’ll never see my baby again.”

* * *

The first thing Lydia notices when she wakes up is that she’s in Stiles’s Jeep (she knows it’s his because he always parks it obnoxiously close to her at school). The second thing she notices is that she’s naked.

”Lydia,” a voice calls from the front (Malia?), “hang on. Just keep breathing, okay? We’re almost at the lake house.”

”What…? What’s going on?”

”We thought you died for a few days, but you’re back now. We need to get you somewhere safe in case the assassins want to finish the job.”

Assassins? What does she mean, “thought you died”? How the hell does she know about the lake house?

”Stop the car.”

”We’re almost there, just two more miles.”

”STOP THE CAR!”

An inhuman growl makes Lydia’s blood freeze. “Listen, when it comes to numbers and Shakespeare and stuff, you can be in charge, but when we’re trying not to die I call the shots. Okay?”

Lydia nods vehemently and angles herself so she can look out the window. True to her word, two miles later Malia jerks to a stop at the lake house. “I thought you didn’t know how to drive.”

”I don’t. We bumped into a few things, but we’re not dead so I’d say it was a success.” She strips off her shirt and pants and hands them to Lydia, who takes them gratefully. She racks her brain trying to remember if there are any weapons hidden around that she could use. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be anything good.

”How long was I out?”

”36 hours. Meredith’s dead, one of the assassins tried to kill us all at the PSATs, and we still don’t know who the Benefactor is.”

”Is this a joke? ‘Cause it’s not funny. I want you to take me home.”

”I did, we’re at the lake house. C’mon, we gotta get you warmed up and safe.”

”Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

Suddenly, electric blue eyes are glaring at her and she gasps. “Get in the house and I’ll explain.” Lydia’s instincts tell her to run, but the image of Malia shivering in her underwear yet still trying to be taken seriously is incongruous enough to convince Lydia to trust her. But first things first.

”How did you do that with your eyes?”

Malia tilts her head in confusion, almost like an animal. “What are you talking about?”

”Your eyes, they changed colors.”

”What’s your point? They always do that.”

”No they don’t! Malia, tell me what the hell is going on.”

”I will, can we please do it inside though?”

Lydia huffs, flips her hair and stomps into the lake house, Malia tailing her. She sets up a fire and pulls out some spare clothes to change into, bringing Malia’s back out to her before curling up on the couch with a blanket. “Explain.”

In two hours, Lydia’s entire conception of the world is thrown into turmoil. Werewolves, banshees, kitsunes, all sorts of things actually exist. Many people she knows are like this, apparently even _she’s_ supernatural. So many people are dead, people she never met but Malia seems to think she was incredibly close to. Jackson fucked off to London after being bitten (and Malia knows next to nothing about that part of the story, which doesn’t help Lydia any). Her parents are divorced, she’s friends with Stiles of all people, and she and Malia aren’t anything. They’re barely even friends in this world. For the first time, Lydia feels completely alone.

This Malia is so hauntingly different. She killed her family; the Malia she knows wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning if something like that had happened. Her mannerisms are disturbing, inhuman. When Lydia starts crying, the _werecoyote_ looks as if she has no idea how to handle emotions, like crying isn’t a part of her vocabulary. She sits uncomfortably next to her and tries to pull her into a hug. After a few minutes, after Malia has relaxed into it, Lydia asks the one question holding all her remaining shreds of hope. “Why are you doing this for me?”

”I dunno,” she replies with unflinching honesty. “I guess I care about you more than I thought.”

Lydia smiles, and hopes her Malia can hear her across universes. “I care about you too.”


	7. Nothin's What You Want//Shatter [Windsor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13) "Nothin's What You Want" Uncle Irene  
>  _Honey tell me what you need,_  
>  _just let me know tonight._  
>  _Tell me what you need, baby,_  
>  _so I can get it right._  
>  _Why don't you tell me honey?_  
>  _Are you afraid I might?_
> 
> 14) "Shatter" Liz Phair  
>  _I don't know if I could drive a car_  
>  _fast enough to get to where you are_  
>  _or wild enough not to miss the boat completely._  
>  _Honey, I'm thinkin' maybe._  
>  _You know, just maybe._

When Lydia doesn’t return after a couple of minutes, Malia goes down to make sure nothing happened. Something did.

She can’t find a pulse and her body feels already cold, like it’s been lying there for hours instead of a few minutes. She has no wounds to speak of, and nothing in the bare modern kitchen betrays any foul play. But then, she notices Lydia’s ears are bleeding, not in a steady trickle, but more like a leak. Her heart beats exactly once before stilling again against Malia’s palm.

She’s at a loss; something in her gut tells her Lydia’s still alive, but she knows a doctor won’t have the patience to wait for the next heartbeat. This isn’t a thing that happens. It sounds like something out of one of those medical mystery shows, or worse a supernatural movie for tweens. Because here she is in a formal dress trying to determine if her not-girlfriend is alive or dead based on humanly impossible criteria and she just—

Her heart beats again, then nothing. Malia looks at the clock; five minutes have gone by. She decides that the hospital is a bad idea, and tries to think of people who would believe her. All her wiccan friends are away at a retreat in Tahoe. Mrs. Chen moved to San Francisco last month, and this wasn’t even her expertise. Suddenly, she remembers a poster she saw in the animal clinic. It had various herbs and their properties, with symbols all around it. Symbols she remembers seeing on jars when she brought Prada in while the Martins were away.

Dr. Deaton only lives a few blocks away, so she makes Lydia comfortable on the living room couch and runs to his house. He doesn’t take too kindly to pounding on his door late at night, and when she explains the situation he tells her to call an ambulance. Eventually he relents, either because he finally believes her, or because he just wants to get the loud girl off his doorstep.

He believes her when he feels the pulse for the first time. Vindicated, Malia leaves her in his care and crashes on Lydia’s bed.

She wakes up about three hours later to Lydia screeching. The stairs are easily vaulted while Deaton hands Lydia a cup of tea, which she accepts gratefully. Malia immediately comes in for a hug, to Lydia’s confusion. It’s the kiss though that makes the frightened girl pull away.

”What are you doing?”

”Malia,” Deaton advises. “Perhaps it’s best if you let her acclimate first before showing affection.”

”Right, sorry. Just glad you’re okay.”

”You should be fine now,” he says. “Just don’t exert yourself.” With that, Deaton takes his exit.

Lydia lets out a soft hum. “Didn’t know he made house calls.”

”He does when teenage girls bang on his door in the middle of the night.”

”How long was I out? And why are we in formal dresses?”

”You don’t remember? We got back from the dance and went up to your room, but you heard a noise and when you went down to the kitchen you passed out. Your pulse was glacially slow and your ears kept bleeding.”

Lydia stills. It gives Malia the feeling that they’re nowhere near out of the woods yet. “What year is it?”

”2014,” she answers slowly. “It’s officially Valentine’s Day.”

”Two years? I missed _two years_?! Is everyone alive? Where is everybody? Did they get the Benefactor? What about—”

Malia pulls her closer on the couch and shushes her, petting her hair. She presses a kiss to her forehead and Lydia flinches. “Malia, are we… are we together?”

She tries to ignore the horror in Lydia’s voice, as if dating Malia were the worst thing in the universe. Malia disentangles herself and forces her vocal cords to work. “We haven’t really talked about it, but I mean you were the one who broke up with her boyfriend so she could ask _me_ to the dance instead. And we were about to hook up before all this happened so, whatever that means for you. But if you’ve changed your mind, there’s nothing I can really do, so I guess I’ll just…” She stands up and walks to the door. Lydia doesn’t get up to stop her, just calls her name quietly. Reluctantly, Malia turns around.

”Thank you. For helping me.”

She manages a smile before walking next door and going to bed.

* * *

Sleep is not a priority for Lydia right now. There’s too much she needs to know. Her first instinct is to call Stiles, but his number’s not in her phone. Neither is Scott’s. Or Derek’s. Or Kira’s or Chris’s or—

Someone deleted Allison’s number.

A few seconds of facestalking confirm her suspicions: she didn’t time travel. She hopped _universes_. She goes to Windsor High School; apparently this universe doesn’t have a Beacon County, let alone a Beacon Hills. Allison, Aiden, Ethan, Kira, none of them ever went here. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are still alive. So are the Hales, all of them. Jackson is still here and sole captain of the lacrosse team. Stiles and Scott are around, but she’s not friends with them. Any of them. The only two people remotely involved in the supernatural she seems to be friends with are Jackson and Malia. And if Jackson’s posts are anything to go by, he’s the boyfriend she just dumped for a girl.

She just chased away the only person who actually talks to her in both universes.

Then again, Malia might not be very helpful anyway. Nothing even remotely supernatural seems to be happening around here. It would make sense; if there’s no supernatural, there’s no werewolf drama destroying the community, meaning there’s no pack. Meaning either she lost her powers in the jump, or she’s the only supernatural thing in this universe. Neither of those is a comforting thought.

Her first priority is to get back to her own world. She listens. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or the fact that she knows how to do it now, but it seems a lot easier to hear the voices now. They fill in the missing parts. Kira was never born, because Mrs. Yukimura died in the 12th century. Ethan and Aiden died of abuse years ago. Her grandmother was murdered.

Her grandmother was murdered by Brunski in Eichen House.

She knew her grandmother was mentally ill. When Lydia was six, Lorraine Martin was taken to Eichen House because the search for answers about the sounds in her head caused her to lose touch with reality. A few years later, they were told she committed suicide. She asks the voices if all of this is true in both universes. It is.

In fact, he’s killed several people who hear voices in both universes.

She looks up Meredith Walker and it seems she goes to high school with them. This might be Lydia’s break; maybe werewolves and other shapeshifters don’t exist here, but banshees do. She has to hope.

When she walks to her car an hour or so later to go to school and talk to Meredith, she finds a note on her windshield. _If you change your mind, I’m right next door. –Malia_

She doesn’t know what to think about the fact that in an alternate universe, she’s in some sort of relationship with Malia. But she’s not about to fuck things up for this other Lydia. _I’m sorry things didn’t go quite as planned. I just need some time to figure things out. ~~I still~~ Don’t give up on me just yet. –Lydia_


	8. Hard Way Home//Mermaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15) "Hard Way Home" Brandi Carlile  
>  _I never did learn how to follow the rules._  
>  _I never was good at sleeping while the moon was full._  
>  _I just lie and burn,_  
>  _wreck my mind while the planet turns._  
>  _I sometimes wish I could start again._  
>  _I'd try to do the right thing every now and then_  
>  _I'd step in line, that's what I'd do if I could turn back time._
> 
> 16) "Mermaid" Georgia Brown  
>  _[vocalise]_

Beacon Hills

The sounds of the forest immediately calm her. They shouldn’t, given the amount of dead werewolves she’s seen here over the past week, but this will always be her home. The county finally stopped spraying her den with chemicals, so she returns to it now to think.

Lydia kissed her. She doesn’t think she meant to, judging by the look of embarrassment and horror on her face right after, but it happened. She certainly didn’t mean to kiss her back.

It took a few seconds for them both to realize what was happening, and before Lydia could explain she was off into the night.

The forest always feels cold now. Spring is on its way, but without her fur she relies more on jackets to keep warm lately and she doesn’t have one with her. It takes her mind off of things a bit.

Things were so much easier before Stiles and Scott ‘rescued’ her from being a coyote. If this whole mess has taught her anything, it’s that she wants to change back. She’s not cut out for being human. Caring about these people isn’t worth the risk.

 _I care about you too._ Did Lydia think she— I mean she did say she was a different Lydia (parallel universes; who knew?). She seemed really sad when Malia told her her story, as if she’d never heard it before. She made references to things that Malia didn’t understand, like she always does, but these were things she expected her to understand, like Mali acame up with them first or something.

It occurs to her that maybe she and Lydia are a lot closer in this other world than they are here. She mentioned something about a dance, and Malia isn’t good at smelling things just yet, but being with Stiles has made it pretty easy to smell pheromones. Lydia’s attracted to her. Are they girlfriends there?

She never had to worry about things like this in the wild. The other two coyotes were already paired off so she never dealt with having someone to mate with until she met Stiles. And seeing as that was a complete and total failure, she doesn’t know how to handle this situation. She’s seen same-sex animal pairings in the woods before, obviously, so it’s not like she finds it nearly as weird as other people do, but she’s never really had the urge to be with a female, coyote or otherwise.

But she does like Lydia, a lot. More than she can really explain.

Also, she promised she’d look after her while everyone else took care of… whatever it is they’re doing. Maybe she should go back and do that.

When she gets back to the lake house, her phone is in service again and she sees several missed calls from a bunch of people. The text she gets explains it best: _On our way. Meredith faked her death too. She’s the Benefactor_

* * *

Windsor

Arriving at school is surreal. It’s like she’s back in sophomore year all over again, which, well, she is. (Time apparently works differently here.) She waves involuntarily at Scott and Stiles, who stop in their tracks and _gape_ at her. Right. Not friends. She goes up to them anyway.

They look around themselves to make sure it is indeed them she’s talking to, and when she stops in front of them, they look at the ground. She forgot how cute they used to be.

”H-hey Lydia,” Stiles ventures. “Did I scratch your car again? I swear I’ll get it fixed just—“

”Relax, Stiles,” she assures him. “Scott.” He blushes. “Have either of you seen Meredith Walker? I need to talk to her about something.”

”Uhhh, no, but she’s in our homeroom. Do you want us to tell her you’re looking for her?”

She’s about to respond in the affirmative when the car motors around her start getting louder. She sees that the N and O from Scott’s ‘Windsor High’ jacket are missing.

”That’s alright, I’ll just find her later. It’s not important. Thanks boys!”

She takes a tip from Meredith’s playbook and heads to the empty music room. She figures the resonance will make it easier to hear. ‘Who is the Benefactor?’

’Beware! BEWARE!’

’Beware whom? Who is the Benefactor?’

The voices go silent and she can hear Meredith. ‘Lydia, it’s me. It’s Beacon Hills Meredith. Don’t move, I’m coming.’

The voices grow even louder. Her phone rings and it’s— oh god it’s Allison. “It’s Meredith. She’s the Benefactor.”

She screams.

She races out the door and into Danny. “You okay, Lyds? You look—“

”If you see Meredith Walker, don’t let her find me!”

He calls after her, but she has a plan. She runs to the office and spots— “Malia!”

”Look, Lydia, about—“

”Do you trust me?”

”What? I…”

”Do you trust me?” Malia gives her the stank eye but nods. “I need you to distract the office lady. Don’t ask why, just, it has to do with what happened last night.”

For a long moment, Lydia has the sinking fear she won’t help, but then Malia is on the floor convulsing and Lydia backs away toward the office door. The secretary sees Malia through the glass and rushes to help her. Lydia sneaks in through the door just as she spots Meredith running down the hallway. As Meredith enters the door, she breathes in, holds down the button, and screams as loud as she can into the PA system.


	9. All We Are//Unsaid [Beacon Hills]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17) "All We Are" OneRepublic  
>  _Every single day that I can breathe,_  
>  _you change my philosophy._  
>  _I'm never gonna let you pass me by._  
>  _So don't say your goodbyes,_  
>  _you know it's better that way._  
>  _We won't break, we won't die._  
>  _It's just a moment of change._
> 
> 18) "Unsaid" The Fray  
>  _Not that you're the one,_  
>  _not to say I'm right,_  
>  _not to say for sure,_  
>  _and not to say a thing tonight._

She wakes up in the lake house with the entire pack staring at her. It’s a lot more comforting than it should be.

”Oh thank god,” Stiles comments loudly. “I thought we had another day and a half before you were up.”

”Did it work? Is she dead?”

”Who, Meredith? She’s right there.” Cautiously, Lydia looks over at Meredith, but she can tell right away that this is Windsor Meredith. “Oh no,” she whimpers, “fuck I thought that would work!”

”I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear,” Scott quips.

She closes her eyes and feels the room around her, feels Meredith’s presence. The voices are calm. Well, as calm as the voices ever are. ‘Is the Benefactor there?’

’I’m here,’ Beacon Hills Meredith says, sounding just as distant as the other voices. ‘You beat me.’

She shushes the pack when the try to get her attention. ‘Why’d you do it?’

‘I just wanted to help,’ the ghost of Meredith replies. ‘Peter said he needed my help.’

”Peter,” she says out loud. “Of course. It all leads back to Peter.”

’I’m sorry, Meredith.’ ‘It’s okay.’

The pack comes up with a plan for dealing with Peter and a newly-human Meredith, then disperses. Stiles offers to drive her and Malia to town, but Lydia insists on staying. “Malia, you’re welcome to stay here too.”

She takes the hint and stays, Stiles muttering all the way out the door. Lydia is petrified of this conversation. It doesn’t even really make sense, because this is a different Malia. Maybe the trip to another universe has her confused. But she sees this conflicted look in the werecoyote’s eyes, which means she’s thinking about the same elephant in the room. She takes a deep breath and sits on the couch, patting the cushion next to her.

Malia sits down.

* * *

Malia probably should have left with Stiles, but she knows just as well as Lydia does that they need to have this conversation. She must have had a similar experience with the other Malia.

”So,” Lydia begins, “I take it she told you about—“

”Yeah.”

”Do you… feel the same way?” Honestly, Malia doesn’t know. But Lydia looks at her with such hope, and she knows she feels _something_

”I don’t know what I feel. It’s like, I just want to be close to you, like really good friends. Who make out sometimes.”

Lydia’s laugh is genuine in its surprise. “Is that so?”

”But I don’t think I’m in love with you.”

”Okay good,” she sighs in relief. “I don’t love you either.” Malia nods. And then Lydia is kissing her.

Making out with Lydia is nothing like making out with Stiles. Stiles is all over the place and overly-enthusiastic. Lydia, on the other hand, knows exactly what she’s doing. Malia opens up to it and cups her cheek in her hand. It’s not as heated as she imagined, but certainly just as passionate. There’s no hurry; Malia isn’t necessarily interested in having sex with her, and Lydia doesn’t seem that concerned about it either. Making out is enough for them right now.

They continue to explore each others’ mouths, hands roaming intermittently, for about half an hour before reluctantly saying goodnight. The stresses of the day must be too much for Lydia, because Malia hears her drop off to sleep almost instantly. She knows she’s not far behind her. A random thought floats through her brain that what they’re doing is so far beyond what either of them expected. But it works for them, she decides, and doesn’t think any more of it as she closes her eyes.


	10. Stumble//Consider This [Windsor]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19) "Stumble" Natasha Bedingfield  
>  _I'm not the kind of girl you bring to mother._  
>  _I'm not the kind of girl you kiss in public._  
>  _My manners leave a lot to be desired._  
>  _At least I'm not a liar, and I'm not about the subtle innuendo._  
>  _More likely to throw rocks up at your window._  
>  [...]  
>  _You like me, there, I said it._  
>  _Don't need a dictionary helping me_  
>  _'cuz I can tell._
> 
> 20) "Consider This" Anna Nalick  
>  _Consider this a warning._  
>  _'Cause I'll start another fight,_  
>  _and you'll say it's all alright._  
>  _I'll wait for the day when you find I'm too much for you baby._  
>  _So lay those hands over me,_  
>  _and feel what you only see,_  
>  _but don't bother wasting your time if you're trying to change me._

Lydia passes out immediately after screaming into the PA system, and there’s nothing Malia can do to help her. Too many people saw it, and soon they’ll assume she’s dead. The ambulance comes and transfers Lydia and Meredith’s bodies to the hospital morgue. The police question her about what happened, but honestly she’s just as confused as they are. All she knows is why she distracted the secretary: “it's Lydia, of course I helped”.

She needs a plan. She has to get Lydia out of the morgue before they try and perform an autopsy, or worse run a battery of tests and procedures on her that may make it harder to wake her up. She overhears Scott and Stiles talking about how Lydia approached them right before– whatever it is that just happened. Scott’s an alright guy, but Stiles gets on her nerves with how on-point his misogyny is. Then again, never let it be said that they aren’t up for a probably-illegal challenge.

It takes some convincing and a hefty sum to get them to help, but eventually they come up with a plan. Scott’s mom works at the hospital and gets them in to see her. Coincidentally, Deaton is Scott’s boss at the vet, so it’s not too hard to get Deaton to agree to harbor Lydia until she wakes up. Stiles distracts the coroner while Malia evacuates the body, which is bleeding from the ears as expected. It’s lucky that Malia’s still friends with Caitlin, because she agrees to drive the getaway vehicle. It’s a little uncomfortable having her ex and her current not-girlfriend in the same car, especially when one of them’s unconscious, but at this point Malia is resigned to this entire situation being fucking weird.

The three hours go by and Lydia isn’t waking up. At around six hours, she starts to worry that this time she won’t wake up. At ten hours, Deaton sends her home and promises he’ll let her know when she wakes up. If– he says “if”.

Caitlin, Scott, and Stiles are kind enough to distract her the next day. She wouldn’t say she’s unpopular, but she isn’t really close with that many people. It’s nice to have people around who she can trust in a literal life-or-death situation and still laugh with. She can see herself building really close friendships with the boys, and she has always enjoyed Caitlin’s company. But she always felt closest to Lydia.

It’s been 36 hours since Lydia passed out when Deaton calls Malia. She’s awake. When she gets, there, Lydia immediately goes up to her and plants the most heartfelt kiss on her lips. In that moment, she knows it’s her Lydia again.

”Knew you liked me,” she whispers. Lydia just drags her out the door. 

* * *

If Lydia could find a rational explanation for the past week, she would be on the cover of every magazine and a shoo-in for the Fields Medal at 17. Unfortunately, “werewolves and banshees in an alternate universe” doesn’t qualify as a rational explanation. So she decides not to worry about it. Whatever it was that happened seems to be over. It’s probably best just to forget about it.

Besides, she has more important things to do right now, like dragging Malia back to her house and fucking her senseless before her parents come home in the morning. No sooner is the door shut than Lydia has Malia pressed against it and her tongue down her throat. They fight with their mouths for a bit before Lydia pulls away to remove her jacket.

”I thought I was the butch one,” Malia snarks huskily.

”Don’t police my gender,” Lydia retorts. “Now take me upstairs and top me.”

Malia snorts and follows obediently to Lydia’s bedroom. It doesn’t take them long to lose their clothes and fall into each other, skin pressing against skin in a way that makes Lydia moan into Malia’s mouth. Usually, she doesn’t like having someone’s full body weight on top of her, but Malia covers her in all the right ways, her leg brushing lightly against Lydia’s vulva. Malia’s hand migrates to her breast, and already Lydia can feel herself dampening. She bucks up and it must hit the dirty blonde the right way because she gasps as she disconnects their tongues, moving on to placing marks on Lydia’s neck. She rubs her hand along Malia’s thigh as the nipple not being groped is taken into the heat of a wet mouth. Her fingers tighten and relax around the thigh before she ventures further and puts her hand on the coarse hair between Malia’s legs. This elicits a grumble of approval and suddenly Malia is sitting up.

”Is this the part where we scissor?” Lydia deadpans. Malia’s eyes narrow before they both burst out giggling. Even Lydia knows that’s not a thing.

Malia shakes her head with a laugh and kisses her lips before moving down the bed. When her tongue makes contact with Lydia’s heat, there is a massive intake of breath before she curls her fingers in Malia’s hair. It’s hard to stay focused when Malia’s tongue is tracing circles around her clit, so she doesn’t, immersing herself in the feeling of a hand coursing up and down her side while this amazing girl goes to work.

After a few minutes, Lydia gets tired of not reciprocating, so she pulls Malia back up so that they’re face to face. It’s kinda weird tasting herself on Malia’s lips, but she ignores that in favor of focusing on the digit she’s trying to insert between slippery legs. Fingering someone else isn’t quite as different from fingering herself as she thought it would be, and it doesn’t take her long to establish a rhythm and pattern that has Malia panting against her neck. She welcomes the thumb that begins playing with her own clit, and before they know it, they’re bucking into each other as they ride twin orgasms.

As she comes down from the endorphin overload, she can’t help but laugh. Malia stares at her with a judgmental smirk. “What?”

“I just think it’s funny that I hate you significantly less right now than I normally do.”

She decides to translate Malia’s eyeroll as a good sign for things to come.


End file.
